would your super-practical husband do now if he were in my
position?" he said, drawing her hands into his.

"I don't know."

"You do! He says that any man worth his salt takes what he wants in this
world. Am I worth my salt?"

"There are different standards of value.... Goodness! how late it is!
You must go now, and don't come back before, let us say, Wednesday."

CHAPTER XX

Whatever may have been Grant's philosophy about the unwisdom of creating
a situation which had no way out he found himself looking forward
impatiently to Wednesday evening. An hour or two at Zen's fireside
provided the social atmosphere which his bachelor life lacked, and as
Transley seemed unappreciative of his domestic privileges, remaining in
town unless his business brought him out to the summer home, it seemed
only a just arrangement that they should be shared by one who valued
them at their worth.

The Wednesday evening conversation developed further the understanding
that was gradually evolving between them, but it afforded no solution of
the problem which confronted them. Zen made no secret of the error she
had made in the selection of her husband, but had no suggestions to
offer as to what should be done about it. She seemed quite satisfied
to enjoy Grant's conversation and company, and let it go at that--an
impossible situation, as the young man assured himself. She dismissed
him again at a quite respectable hour with some reference to Saturday
evening, which Grant interpreted as an invitation to call again at that
time.

When he entered Saturday night it was evident that she had been
expecting him. A cool wind was again blowing down from the mountains,
laden with the soft smell of melting snow, and the fire in the grate was
built ready for the match.

"I am my own maid to-night," she said, as she stooped to light it.
"Sarah usually goes to town Saturday evening. Now we shall see if
someone is in good humor."

The fire curled up pleasantly about the wood. "There!" she exclaimed,
clapping her hands. "All is well. You see how economical I am; if we
must spend on fires we save on light. I love a wood fire; I suppose it
is something which reaches back to the original savage in all of us."

"To the days when our great ancestors roasted their victims while they
danced about the coals," said Grant, completing the picture. "And yet
they say that human nature doesn't change."

"Does it? I think our methods change with our envi